Reading Steinbeck
by aliencatt
Summary: Practically everything Sam does makes Dean go warm, even reading...Pre-series...SLASH...WINCEST...
1. Chapter 1

Pre-series...Sam/Dean...Slash/Wincest

* * *

Dean groaned to himself as he walked into the room. Sam was doing it again. He was reading, and it made Dean slump against the doorjamb and close his eyes, swallowing hard. Because, Sam had a way of reading that made his brother go warm and his body react in ways he knew it shouldn't.

Sam had finally gotten to an age where his body was catching up to his height. Gone was the gangly youth who was uncomfortable in his own skin, falling over his own feet from the most resent growth spurt. Sam had begun to 'fill out', becoming a lean, lithe figure that had made his brother notice. Now he was reading again.

Seldom being able to get comfortable on any of the aged and dented sofas, ubiquitous with the rentals they occupied, having become too tall, Sam had taken to stretching out on the floor. Dean could not help but let his gaze wonder over the frame spread out before him, from the feet, in worn pumps crossed at the ankles, all along the length of those legs, up to that butt hidden in the baggy worn denim. There was a dimple in the hollow of his back visible where the faded navy t-shirt had rucked up to expose just a glimpse of smooth flesh. It made Dean want to taste it.

Leaning up on bent arms, Sam was oblivious to Dean's presence. His right foot was tapping repeatedly as he turned another page, all his attention on the book open on the floor before him. Dean could not see from his vantage point but could imagine as those long fingers held, then slid over the paper just before the page was turned. But his attention came back to that hollow.

Shifting from foot to foot, Dean ran a hand through his hair as his eyes caressed that place where the too large waistband rose up to let him see just the beginning of the divide of Sam's ass. He licked his lips imagining crawling up those legs, his hands and knees moving slowly, ever closer to being able to dip the tip of his tongue into a dimple, then catch up the skin between in his lips as he moved to lick the mirrored one.

Dean knew he had a serious problem. It was not as if he had gone out of his way to have sexual feelings about his younger brother, he had not decided to 'perv' after the teenager, it had just happened gradually over the last few months as little Sammy had suddenly 'grown up'.

Seeing someone every day was a little like seeing changes in yourself, they were gradual and could go unnoticed for long stretches of time. That had happened with his brother. Until that morning, when Dean had walked into the kitchen just as his brother, who was leaning into the refrigerator in nothing but a pair of faded jeans, had stood up and yawning, stretched his arms high tensing up onto tiptoes then 'fallen' back to his feet.

Dean had been mesmerised by the play of muscles across the naked back and caught by that dip at the bottom on his spine as it lifted from beneath the waist on the ill fitting jeans. It had been as simple as that, as quick as that.

Sam had turned around, milk carton in hand and, on seeing Dean, smiled. It was at that moment Dean thought that he had fallen in love with him. He had been stood there suddenly overwhelmed by an attraction which was stirring up feelings of lust, but it had been that smile that had undone him.

If Sam had not smiled it might have been easier. Dean could have just realised that his baby brother was growing up and then, if he had still felt that slight arousal, he could have gone out and found someone to use it on. But Sam had smiled at him and it was such a glorious smile, a private smile, that was for Dean only. It was a smile of home and family, friendship and joy. And it had made his brother's face beautiful.

Dean had smiled back. Then, on an impulse to move over to him and reach out a hand to touch that face, cradle that face and run his thumb across that mouth, he had left asking himself, 'just what the fuck was he thinking?', just what the fuck was wrong with him?

He had his answer now. He was, basically, fucked. He was in love with his brother and he wanted him. Every time he saw him, Sam seemed to be doing something that would make Dean go warm, would make him shift as his jeans, already tight, became constricted. Dean was only just heading out of teenage years himself and he found near everything Sam did 'turned him on'.

Especially reading. Because Sam did not just read, he got absorbed and that left Dean free to watch him for long stretches of time.

He loved the way that leaning up on bent elbows, his arms crossed under his chest, forced Sam's shoulders up which in turn made that hollow in his back prominent and his butt push up. He wanted nothing more than to be able to sit on the floor next to him and idly let his fingers caress that exposed lower back. He sighed.

It must have been loud in the room as Sam's head jerked to the left and, on seeing Dean, rolled onto his side leaning head in hand. "Hey."

"Hey."

"What you doing?"

"Watching you." and Dean could have quite easily hit himself in the head.

"Okay," puzzled but slightly amused. "Why?" Dean had been acting weird lately, often just disappearing suddenly, so it was a nice change for him to be hanging around. Sam missed him.

Crap! "What'ya reading?" pushing away from the door frame and, hands in pockets, moving slowly towards his brother.

"Steinbeck," marking his place with a finger.

"Oh." As Dean hesitated, then sank to sit cross legged next to his brother but moving his hands to his lap. "You should read something newer. Stephen king or something."

"When I read, I want to escape. I don't want something that's like 'what I did in my summer vacation'." Laughing lightly, showing Dean his other dimples.

Dean smiled, almost sheepishly, watching as his fingers nervously picked at each other. He was sure he could smell Sam. A good smell. "Speaking of which. You up for some fight practice?" maybe then he could burn off some of this nervous energy, and get to touch Sam without feeling guilty about it.

His brother let out a groan and rolled onto his back, arms over his face. "Do we have to? It's freezing out there." It was only warm in here because Dean had 'fixed' the meter.

"Guess not. I'll leave you to it." And moved to get up.

"Can't you stay? Talk to me?" uncovering his face, letting his arms flop to the floor over his head.

Dean settled back smiling. "Sure." And looked at Sam, really looked at him, seeing him relaxed with his head turned towards him just waiting. He wasn't often like this anymore, so calm. Sam always looked like he had things on his mind and often not pleasant things. He would get an expression that made him seem older than he was, world weary.

His 'little' brother should be thinking about girls and playing hooky, not about the best way to kill the monster of the week or how to patch up a knife wound or claw marks. He should be out too late with his friends getting yelled at by Dad because he missed another curfew. But he did not seem to have any friends and that made Dean sad for him.

Growing up, Sam had always been able to make friends, much better than himself, but Dean had only been interested in making girlfriends, 'making out' with girlfriends. He laughed, "Well? What do you want to talk about?"

Sam just shrugged and closed his eyes.

Dean waited, turning slightly, and let his eyes travel over the figure next to him. The old t-shirt was stretched tight across Sam's chest being too small now and Dean thought about getting him some new ones before his brother started wearing his clothes again. He was desperately _not_ thinking about that line of dark hairs descending from the exposed navel atop the taut belly, skin so pale and blemish free, wondering if they would be soft or coarse on his lips. What the skin would taste like on his tongue.

"Dean?"

"Umm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." His eyes not moving.

"You won't laugh?"

"Oh, I'm sure I will." Grinning, finally dragging his eyes away to gaze at his brother's face.

"Nevermind then." Sounding dejected.

"Just messin'. Course I won't. What is it?" and seeing the uncertainty clouding Sam's face, moved and stretched out beside him on the floor mirroring his posture, but with arms crossed under his head. Maybe if he wasn't looking at him, Sam would feel more comfortable asking whatever was eating at his mind now.

In a hesitant voice, Sam asked, "When did you first do, It?"

Oh, it was going to be one of _those_ conversations because it was obviously _the_ 'It' he meant. Well, he could deal with that.

"You not done 'it' yet?" kind of surprised but then, this was Sammy, 'always got a book in his hand' Sammy.

There was no answer. Turning his head towards his brother, Dean told him, "Just turned fifteen. Not much younger than you are now."

"Right. I'm sixteen. Be seventeen soon." sounding morose.

"Sammy. It's not a race."

Silence then, "Did you love her?"

"For about a week."

"Why only a week?"

"That's how long it took for her to give it up."

"Dean!"

"What? You asked." Rolling onto his side, facing his brother. Head propped in hand, he asked, "Is there someone you like, some girl at school maybe?" And saw the blush. It warmed up Sam's skin, giving him a flushed appearance, his eyes downcast. Dean felt a stabbing in his gut as he realised he was jealous. He wanted to put that rose bloom on his brother's face. He wanted to be the cause of his heated flesh.

He had a sudden vision then of what his brother could look like as he came and he wanted more than anything to see it. He pulled his shirt closed over his hip, surreptitiously covering the bulge. "So there is someone." hoping the sudden disappointment had not made it to his voice.

Sam also rolled onto his side, this time he mirrored his brother, but could not look at him. He wished he had not said anything now. It was so embarrassing, but he did like someone and did not know what to do. She was so out of his league and he needed help, advise and Dean had them all falling at his feet, throwing themselves at him. And he in turn, used them and threw them back.

He had to admire Dean in that sort of hero worship way that teenage boys had for others who 'got it' all the time, but Sam already knew he was not like his brother. Not only was he not a 'babe magnet', he wanted more. Sure he would not turn down the chance of sex, he was alive and male after all, but he hankered for a relationship.

He liked this girl, a lot, and he wanted to date. He wanted to take her out, to go to the cinema, go dancing, to go to a restaurant. But there were two major problems. One, she hardly knew he existed and two, she was rich. Well, not dripping in diamonds rich, but her family was well off and, if Sam ever did find the courage to ask her out, he could only spring for a pizza and coke and that was pushing it.

And then there was her brother. A third problem. Twins, they were always together and the odd times he had managed to talk to Stacey her brother, Thomas had turned up. Where as Stacey was all curves and soft white skin, Thomas was all hard muscle and angled with that bronzed completion from being out on the sports field all the time. He could see it now, glowing, marred only by the odd mole and freckle. He liked his face, liked it a lot, but wished the odd freckle was in abundance. He liked freckles. If he had his way, Thomas would have more, just like Dean. He loved Dean's freckles but then again, he loved Dean.

He groaned to himself. He was an unattractive boy who was attracted to three people and could have none of them. His life sucked. And that was without the things that go bump in the dark that could kill you.

He thought about Stacey. She was, after all, the safest route to be going down. And he did like her, he liked her laugh and he liked the curves and soft white skin. He looked up at Dean's surprisingly patient expression, then back to the floor between them. "Stacey." He finally admitted.

A picture conjured itself in Dean's mind. Stacey. He saw lipstick and handbags and high heels and a giggling blond High School girl who had moved from dressing up dolls to dressing up herself and other equally vapid girls. So not what he went for. Still she could be the school slut but, looking at and considering Sam, he doubted it. Wait. A math geek. Better, but whoever she was, she was not good enough for his brother. But if Sam liked her? "So what's the problem?"

Sam looked at him sharply. "Who said there's a problem?"

"You did." Laughing lightly.

"No, I didn't." sure that he hadn't.

"Well, you've not nailed her yet have you?"

"No!" shocked, but this _was_ Dean he was talking to.

"So what's the problem?"

"Me."

"What do'ya mean?" surprised. He'd thought she must already have a boyfriend or something.

"She's beautiful and popular and rich and I'm just me."

"And just what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Sam looked up, taken aback by the anger in his brother's voice. "She's beautiful."

"And you're not?" still angry.

"No." resigned.

Dean had never had teenage insecurity. He had grown up knowing he was good looking. He had been receiving praise for his looks for as long as he could remember. Sure it had started with 'oh how cute' and 'aren't you just perfect' to surreptitious glances, appraising glances and then blatant ones. Even some of their Dad's hunting 'buddies' had changed the way they regarded him after he hit puberty. He was used to it. Hell he traded on it.

Sam seemed not to realise how damned 'hot' he was. His looks, so different to his brother, had their own genuine appeal and, although Dean had garnered most of the attention as they grew, he was not blind to the way people had begun to look at his brother. Not now he had to stop himself from blatantly doing the same.

He wanted to tell Sam just how beautiful he was but figured he would not believe him. When Sam had a set idea, it was damned hard to dissuade him from it. He placed gentle fingers on his brother's jaw, lifting his head. He wanted to show him how attractive he was but instead said, "But you sure is real pruid-dy boy." In that hillbilly, inbred kind of voice.

Sam laughed, he couldn't help it. "Jerk."

"Bitch" and smiled, relieved. "Sam. You _are_ a good looking boy. You're tall," understatement, "slim and your face isn't too bad." Grinning, "Not half as good looking as me but hey, you're not bad." 'You're beautiful' he thought.

Perhaps Sam believed him a little as he blushed again, and Dean felt so good. He let his fingers stroke Sam's cheek, and his brother let him. He did not want to add, but thought it was his big brother duty, "You should just ask her out."

"But I've got no money."

"I can give you a twenty."

"Thanks, but…"

"But what?" it was like getting blood from the proverbial stone these days getting anything out of his brother. Patience, he told himself, after all he had spent most of his own teenage years trying to get little Sammy to shut up.

"Nothing." Sighing dejectedly, wondering how long Dean would continue to push his hair behind his ear if he told him about wanting to ask Thomas out and not Stacey.

"Just talk to me, Sam." It was a rare moment, but he really wanted to know what was on his brother's mind. He didn't push, just left the moment silent as he watched Sam's face while he continued to smooth that too long hair away from his face.

Thinking about the twins, Sam did like them both, his mind settled on wanting to know if Thomas' butt was as firm as it looked in those football leggings. Damn, he had the 'hots' for a school 'jock'. He groaned, he had the hots for a High School jock who reminded him of his brother. The same brother, who was now stretched out next to him, so close.

He shifted just a little closer, and spoke quickly before he changed his mind. "Say I do ask her out and I don't get laughed at and she says yes and we go out and I don't embarrass myself because I'm not a jock and he doesn't hit me for asking and he does like me too what am I supposed to do as I've never really kissed anyone 'ceptin that girl at the last school but she was the class slut and it was horrible and I want to be good and I want to know what to do but should I kiss him or do I let him kiss me cause he's bound to have more experience cause of what he is every one likes him and he'd be able to have anyone and I don't know why he's not with all the cheerleaders that are always hanging around but he's always with Stacey and every time I see her I want to touch her and then there's him and and life sucks and I want to be older so I know what to do but if I was I wouldn't be in school and then ….Fuck!" and he sort of collapsed down half on Dean, his forehead buried in the elbow of the arm holding his brother's head up.

Dean's head was spinning. Who was the more confused, him or his brother? He put his free hand on Sam's back as he tried to digest what he had just heard. So did Sam want to ask out a girl named Stacey or a boy named, Stacey? Or was she a cheerleader dating a jock or was it the jock or…?

"Sam? Do like boys?" and his brother just groaned, pushing his face further into the crook of Dean's elbow as his body tensed then relaxed heavily onto him. Dean was feeling several things at the moment. Confusion high on the list, but a kind of hope because if Sam did go both ways? and the way he was half lying on him now was doing all sorts of things to Dean.

"Sam?"

But Sam was mortified that he had let all of that out, and the only place he could hide right now was here, because if he tried to get up, Dean might see what a freak he was. Because although he had, he had not really been talking about Stacey or Thomas but Dean. He was so worried that if Dean knew what was happening right now to Sam, lying so close to him, he would knock him into next week.

"Sam?" and Dean shook his brother with the hand on his back then moved to push at his hip rolling him, with some effort, onto his back. "Sam, look at me." as his brother just lay there acting dead with his eyes shut. He lent up, crowding over him, and moved his hand to Sam's face once more. "Damn it. Open your eyes and look at Me." and he did.

Sam looked up at Dean, and Dean's breath fled.

An instant, one glance and that's all it took for Dean to forget that they were talking about someone else, to forget that this was his brother, to forget that this was something he knew he should not do. He rolled over to lie atop of Sam and, gazing into those wide open, beseeching hazel eyes, he was kissing him.

Dean was on top of him. Dean was kissing him. It was fast and passionate and so fucking fantastic as his brother's lips forced his own open. Sam's whole body rose up against the bulkier one pinning him down. As a hot tongue surged into his mouth, he moaned out and held on for dear life, his arms encircling Dean's back, his hands grasping through the fabric as he opened his mouth wider, his own tongue finding his brother's.

Thoughts of not knowing what to do fled as he was swept up in the feeling of Dean's hands holding his shoulders, of his body moving on his. He forced his legs apart, out from under his brother, bending his knees, bringing them up high as Dean began to slowly, shallowly grind against him.

What the _fuck_ was he _doing?_ Dean's mind was screaming at him to stop but was drowned out by his body moving, pushing his, so hard prick, against Sam. His brother, Sam, who was pushing up against him, who was wrapped around him. He could feel those long fingers digging into his shoulder blades pulling him down, caught up in the rhythm as Dean ground against the prick he could feel growing hard beneath him.

Sam's mouth was pure nectar. He tasted pure, sweet and the knowledge that Sam had never been kissed like this, had never kissed like this, just fuelled his lust, ardour, whatever. He wanted it all, could not get enough of the heat around his tongue or Sam's tongue meeting his, his teeth scraping against his tongue as he licked around them. He pulled back wanting to feel naked skin against his demanding prick, but still could not give up that mouth, licking, sucking, causing Sam to make noises that should be obscene on someone so young.

Struggling, Dean finally managed to get his jeans undone and pushed down around his hips, his prick springing free to lie against his belly and rub on the so coarse denim of his brother's pants. Sam's hands were on the bare skin of his hips and it just made him frantic to get at him. He fumbled with the fastening then, in frustration, with a snarl, knelt back, grabbing the waist of the baggy jeans and boxers and just pulled downwards.

Sam thrust his hips up off the floor, all the time staring at Dean's face. He had never seen it like this before, the eyes dark and hooded, his face flushed and determined. His jeans were stripped to his ankles and he reached up for Dean as his brother once more covered him, that prick that looked so angry in his brief glimpse, sliding in next to his own.

Sam let out a startled yelp swallowed as Dean once more claimed that mouth, swollen now from the pressure of his lips. He moved on him, his whole body burning from the friction of his cock rubbing against his brother's. Sam's slimmer body was pushing up against his own, their rhythm together frantic, quickening and Dean knew, peaking.

One arm wrapped around Sam's shoulders, he pulled him against himself, his tongue submerged in that blessed heat as his left hand spread against the floor. He ground against him harder, pushing against Sam who was pushing up from the floor. He was so close. He ripped his mouth from Sam's and pushed his face hard into his brother's neck.

The gasp Sam let out was so loud he thought the windows should shake. His legs either side of Dean were bent tight, his knees in the air, his feet caught by his pants. He wanted to hold on, wanted to wait for Dean but he couldn't. He thrust up and almost screamed as his first ever orgasm by other than his own hand caused his whole body to spasm, hot streaks of cum burning his belly and he held on as Dean's mouth spread on the side of his neck.

The cum seemed to burn between them as Dean's prick slid through it, pushing against Sam's quivering belly, his hip grinding still into the join of leg and body. Dean bit down on Sam's neck and shoulder as he too shuddered, giving his cum to mix with Sam's as he moved, once, twice, empting completely then collapsed down onto his fucking, beautiful, fantastic, brother.

Damn, Dean was heavy, but Sam would not have him move for the world. He breathed in as deeply as he could, his rising chest causing Dean to shift to the side then settle once more. He lay there, his legs relaxed but spread, his ankles still caught by his jeans under Dean. He bit his lips, desperately trying not to laugh but he felt so fantastic, and knackered. He felt fucked. He giggled, there was no over word for it.

"Wha…?" Dean lifted up looking at Sam's face wanting to know what was so damned funny, but he saw a kind of joy. He fell back rolling off Sam, turning his head to look at him and grinned. Then Sam rolled over onto him, to look down into his face. "Hey," he greeted. Not the most profound statement after just 'deflowering' your younger brother.

"Hey, yourself." And Sam lent down to kiss Dean's smiling, swollen mouth. It just looked so damn beautiful. Soft, slow, lingering, Sam explored the texture and taste of those lips that had been there his whole life but were so completely new. He slowly pushed his tongue up under Dean's top lip licking his teeth, licking the corner of his mouth before pushing inside.

Dean lay back, his hands loose on his chest and let Sam do as he would. And Sam seemed to want to taste. His mouth was everywhere. After his lips, his face, his throat, his neck was thoroughly explored, examined and tasted. Dean thought he would never, no matter how many other times, no matter how many other mouths, forget what it was like to be Sam's first experience. That surprisingly lush mouth on his nipple as hands pushed up his t-shirt. Fingers playing in the cum coated hairs on his belly, at the root of his prick. Those same fingers rolling his balls in their sack and that mouth, as it panted into his own as he slowly, so slowly jerked them off together.

They were a mess, faces slick with saliva and cum just like their bellies and stomachs. Muscles groaned and limbs ached, swollen lips and sucked up reddened skin. Nothing was said. No recriminations or doubts and no promises.

Dean was making his way slowly down Sam's side, his mouth nipping up skin, heading down intent on giving the seemingly insatiable teen his second ever blow job when Sam froze asking, "What was that?"

Dean listened and heard the unmistakable sound of a key in the lock on the front door. Fuck!

"Boys? I'm back. Anyone home?" John Winchester called out as he stripped off his jacket, dropping his duffle in the hall. "Hello?" as he moved into the living room, finding it empty save for one of Sam's ever present novels abandoned on the floor in front of the sofa.

tbc…


	2. Chapter 2

It was his own fucking fault, he supposed, but that did not help as Dean Winchester sat morosely watching his brother through the windshield of his Impala. His Impala. Dad had finally bought himself a truck and handed over the keys to the classic Chevy on Dean's twenty first birthday. He had the car to call his own at last but guessed he was losing Sammy.

They weren't being obvious but Dean knew his brother and the Letterman he was laughing with were lovers. It's not as if he could complain, rant and rave and accuse him of cheating. Sam had asked him for advice and basically, Dean had fucked him.

So now, the shy nervous, unsure teen had gained a new confidence and plucked up the courage to ask Thomas out. Thomas had not hit him as he had feared but said yes. Now Sam was fucking them both and Dean knew, just knew, that everything he did with Sam, everything that he taught him, that they discovered together, the blond in the Letterman jacket was getting the benefit of.

Dean hated him.

But Sam was happy.

For these so brief three months, Sam had become a different person. Gone was the brooding bookworm, the awkward shy youngster. Considering how many secrets he had to keep, the hunting, the incest, being gay in High School in the mid west, he seemed well adjusted and…. happy.

Dean, on the other hand, had a war raging inside. He wanted his brother to be happy, of course he did, but he was jealous. Not only did he want 'Sammy' Winchester back, he wanted him all to himself.

"Sammy!" yelling out of the window. "Get in the damn car!"

Sam's head jerked up annoyed. He had not even noticed the big black Impala sat across the street. "Guess you gotta go?" Thomas said resigned. He was uncomfortable around Sam's older brother. For some reason the man appeared to hate him. Sam's sibling knew he was gay and apparently was okay with that, so it must be personal. He had no idea what he was supposed to have done to offend the quite scary man but there must have been something. Sam said he was imagining it but he was convinced that if Dean's looks could kill, he would be a smouldering pile of ash.

"Looks like," Sam answered frowning. Dad must want them. Dean had stopped picking him up from school more or less as soon as he started seeing Thomas. He thought he was just staying out of the way, which suited Sam as sometimes, when they were all together at the house, he had these ideas about them all being 'together'.

Because he couldn't in reality, Sam said, "I'm kissing you goodbye." Then touched the blonde's arm. "I'll call later." Then smiling, hearing, "You'd better," headed for the car.

Damn, but the kid looked happy. Dean just knew that when they had to move on, Sam was going to be a mess. Still, he would have Dean to turn to.

He couldn't help it. As Sam settled in the car, looking off at his boyfriend, Dean placed his hand high on his brother's thigh and, leaning over, pressed hard, his fingers pushing against Sam's prick as he cheerily waved at Thomas delighting as the kid went pale.

"Jerk!" disgustedly but with a hint of humour.

"Bitch!" as sitting back he turned over the engine.

"So what's up? Dad want us?"

"Dad's gone. Gonna be away all weekend."

"So why'd you come pick me up?"

Dean looked over, grinning behind his shades. "Cause I wanna cum!"

"You've got to be kidding me!" exasperated.

"Nope. This here hard-on's got your name on it."

Sam could play him at his own game. "Really?" Leaning over, his right hand reaching to teasingly caress over the denim, "I can't feel anything," sitting back.

"Bitch!"

"And that's supposed to get on my good side?" asked sceptically with arched brows.

"Your side, your back, your front. I'm not fussy." And smirked as his brother went a little pink and shifted on the bench seat.

Sam looked off out of the side window, feeling himself go hot. He liked it when Dean was like this. When he just wanted to fuck. He loved it when Dean made love to him but he liked it raw too. He just waited for the day when Dean would actually 'fuck' him. They had done plenty else and Dean had even let Sam finger him but he had so far drawn the line at actually full out 'penetrating' him. Sam had begged, oh how he had begged, but it hadn't happened.

He had thought about just going 'all the way' with Thomas but no. He wanted Dean 'to go where no one had gone before'. He laughed under his breath.

"What?" Dean asked with a smile. But Sam just shook his head.

They were quiet the rest of the way home until parked on the drive, Dean turned his full attention on Sam. "Get out. Get inside and get naked."

Sam just looked at him, raising an eyebrow as if to say, 'get serious'.

Dean smiled and, reaching over, popped open the glove box then sat back. "You'll be needing that." And delighted as Sam went very still and very red.

Staring at the small bottle, Sam turned wide eyes to his brother. Seeing the look, part humour, part dare and a lot of lust, Sam grabbed up the lubricant and practically fell out of the car in his haste to get inside the house.

Moving much slower, Dean grinned and followed, his jeans uncomfortably tight at Sam's panicked expectant expression. He had been putting this off for various reasons, although the lube had been waiting for over a month. He thought Sam was too young, he was too eager, but in reality Dean was terrified that Sam did not know what he was begging for, that he would hate it and therefore, hate Dean too.

But he also knew that if he waited too long, Sam wouldn't and there was no way he was letting that jock get there first. If ever. And also he had never done this before, not with a man.

He supposed that it couldn't be that much different than having anal with a woman. The mechanics' must be the same surely? And did he admit to Sam that he would be his first? His brother sort of looked to him as a done everything kind of guy. In that kind of cool guy way that if he was female he would be called a slut or worse.

The main reason he had put it off was he was as nervous as hell. He wanted this so much, from the moment he had realised he was attracted to his brother, he had been plagued with visions of Sammy writhing beneath him, but in his more honest moments, he saw Sam looking down at him.

More than anything, Dean wanted to be wrapped around his brother as his brother, his sixteen year old brother thrust into him. But he would take what he could get. Dean had set ideas as most people not doing 'it' did. When it came to male gay sex you were a 'top' or a' bottom'. As far as he knew you didn't switch. He would be whatever Sam wanted him to be. And that was the end of it.

Enough stalling. He took a deep breath and entered the house. Sam was not in the hall and entering the kitchen to get much needed Dutch courage, he was not there either. Popping the cap on the cold beer Dean moved to enter the living room and froze, bottle half way to his lips. Sam stood there smiling nervously at him.

Dean stared, the beer forgotten as he took in the sight. "You're not naked." He stated. But damn did Sam look good, damned fuckable. He had undressed leaving nothing but those baggy, so worn, faded jeans open at the crotch, barely hanging on his hips. The sight was so sexy, weight on one hip, his belly pushed forwards allowing Dean to enjoy the tantalising view of those soft dark hairs trailing down to merge with the fuller hair surrounding that long, deceptively slender cock, but so in proportion to the rest of him, still hidden beneath denim but, as Dean stared, making it's presence known.

Sam felt like his skin was burning under the green gaze. His hands sort of came in front of him as if he was hiding, his shoulders hunched and his head dropped. He felt embarrassed being on show. He felt himself blush.

"You don't have any idea how fucking beautiful you are, do you?" Dean asked as he took a step closer slipping off his jacket and putting down the bottle.

"Don't." Sam said.

"Don't what?" worrying his brother had changed his mind.

"Don't take your clothes off. Put your jacket back on." Small, almost plaintive.

"Why? Don't you want to do this?" a rush of fear.

"Fuck yes!" defiant then blushed again.

Dean smiled as Sam looked all innocence, sheepish, but knew to the contrary. "Then what?"

A hesitant breath then, stealing himself, Sam stood straighter arms uncovering himself as he aged before his brother's eyes and said almost confidently, "I want you to keep all your clothes on, even jacket and boots as you fuck me naked beneath you." then ruined it by biting at his bottom lip.

Dean went hot as his prick jumped, and Sam stood a little straighter as he saw his reaction. "No." Dean told him. And continued to undress, keeping eye contact. Moving closer he said, "No, Sam. Not this time. Not your first time. I want to make love to you and if that goes okay and you're alright with it, then next time. Maybe. But I won't forget. I promise. But not this time. Please?" and he reached out and touched Sam's face.

Sam was relieved. He would make Dean keep his word though. It was a fantasy he had had for a while now and he sort of had this awful feeling that Dean had been putting this off. He was unsure whether it was because he either did not want to fuck him in the ass, or thought Sam wouldn't be any good, and, if he only got the one chance with his brother, he had wanted that.

Sam still could not believe that Dean was having sex with him. Every time he expected it to be the last. Dean liked women. So did Sam, but Dean _really_ liked women. Lots of them. So maybe this thing with Sam was just that, a thing. Maybe he had taken pity on him when he was so inept about what to do about Thomas and was just waiting for Sam to move on?

But Sam did not want to. He was having fun with Thomas sure and the sex was not bad, but he was not Dean. His boyfriend did not make Sam feel the way that Dean did. Could not strip him raw, turn his mind inside out then cradle him, bringing him back to earth, back home. He did not believe anyone else would ever be able to do that because no one else was Dean. His big beautiful brother who was watching him intently as he undressed before him.

Then he was grabbing his face up in those so strong, gentle hands and was kissing him, and Sam melted into his kiss, into the embrace all over again.

Dean would never get tired of kissing his younger brother. No one had ever given themselves up so completely into his hands as did his brother. He tasted of spearmint chewing gum and that distinct Sammy flavour. Then he had him wrapped in his arms and he kissed him, wanting him to know just how much he loved him, wanted him and was so honoured and thrilled to be the first, that Sam wanted him in this so intimate way.

He slid his lips from his brother's mouth and holding Sam so close, so tightly, spoke into his ear, "Are you sure?" not letting him go.

"Yes," quietly and seriously into his own.

Dean was kissing him once more and Sam threw his head back, open mouthed as that mouth of Dean's kissed along his jaw, down his throat and then over his body as Dean worked his way down, slowly sinking to his knees, never once giving up his surrounding hold on him. Those calloused hands glided their way down his back, holding his waist as Dean took his left nipple between his lips and 'suckled' on him making Sam whimper and hold the back of his brother's head, his other arm sliding over a shoulder and down Dean's back to scratch lightly along his spine.

Dean would never cease to be surprised at the sounds Sam made. They were so raw and needy, so dark and dirty and unimaginable coming from such an innocent looking youth. Each little moan, each whimper made Dean's prick that little bit stronger, more eager but he took his time. He sucked hard on the nipple pulling his head back then releasing the abused nub with a pop as it slid from his tight lips, then he bit, sucked and mauled his way down to those hairs that so often had him captivated.

Sam smiled as he wondered he had any belly hair left the way Dean would play, pull and tug on it. He would almost call it a fetish the man spent so much time and attention there. His prick pushed up against Dean's neck but he ignored it in favour of that line of hair or, Sam suspected, just to drive him mad. Hands at his waist and his jeans were very slowly pulled down and a final 'bite' to his belly and Dean was helping him out of them.

Then Dean pulled on Sammy looking up at him, encouraging his lover down to the floor where Sam lay back, his arms reaching for his brother and Dean rolled on top of the long frame, just as he had months before in this very spot between the TV and the sofa.

There was no rush this time though. Slow touching, exploring as Sam lay back as the elder 'worked him over' gentle hands and mouth every where, then Sam arched back, breath hissing as Dean licked across the head of his prick.

All Dean heard was an, "Nurunph" which made him smile as he knew it roughly translated to, 'oh fuck, that's good please oh yeah fuck Dean!' he closed his lips around the engorged head and oh, so, slowly, pulled. "Arhnumph!" which said it all really, and grinning, Dean lowered his watering mouth as far down his brother's prick as he could without deep throat-ing him, he wasn't ready for Sammy to cum just yet.

Sam's left hand carded into the short hair pushing, wanting Dean to take him into his throat. It was fucking amazing when he did that, the sight of those lips working around his prick could probably make him cum all on its own. But then Dean pulled back, and seeing the spit and pre-cum on those swollen lips, made Sam's prick jerk hitting Dean on the chin, spreading even more glistening juices there.

Dean thought Sam would faint if he didn't breathe soon and just grinned as he rubbed his index and middle finger over his mouth and then inside as seductively as he could, slavering them. Sam's eyes went round and, still grinning, Dean lent back down to swallow around him as he put his fingers to Sam's arsehole.

Sam's heels dug into the floor, the worn carpet rough on his back as he jerked upwards pushing himself into Dean's mouth as those slick fingers slowly, gently rubbed around and around his opening. He could not make a coherent thought to ever describe the feeling as, all at once Dean dragged his lips back along his shaft and, as he opened his mouth and throat to take Sam's prick all the way in, his middle finger pushed and burst through the so tight ring of muscle. Sam bit his own lip hard enough to draw blood.

Distraction over, Dean wanted to see Sam's face, so pulling back stripping the prick with tight lips, he let it fall from his mouth and licking his lips sat back on his heels, his finger held so tight in Sam's pulsing anus as his brother tried to breath. He pushed with his finger causing Sam's whole body to shudder.

Looking around, he asked, "Sam? Sammy? What did you do with the lube?"

Sam pushed himself up, staring at Dean, amazed that the man with a finger up his ass could speak so calmly. Leaning back on an elbow, trying not to show his sudden fear, Sam held out his right hand opening his fist to reveal the small bottle.

Dean smiled. His brother had been holding on tightly to it all the time. He pulled his finger from the tight hole gently against the resistance and gazed deep into his brother's wide anxious eyes. "You sure?" last chance. Dean's prick didn't care that he wanted this the other way around. Dean's prick was straining for that tightness he had just had on his much, much smaller finger.

Sam just nodded, licking his bottom lip, tasting blood hoping Dean had not seen it. He watched hardly breathing as Dean flicked open the cap and squeezed some of the warm liquid onto his fingers then grasping Sam's prick in his left hand, placed his fingers at the opening. Grinning at Sam, he slowly jerked him off whilst once more circling the anus then, with an almost "Arhh", pushed his index finger inside smiling at the widened eyes and stopped whilst Sammy adjusted to him all the while stroking that still so attentive prick.

It seemed to take for ever for Dean to push that finger all the way into him. Sam lay back down, his knees drawing up, his head going back, as the finger in his ass began to move in time to the hand on his prick. He squirmed, his shoulders rubbing against the floor, his hand ineffectually reaching for Dean. He licked his lips and made satisfied murmurs as the finger sped up then gasped as another burst through his hole to join it.

Dean stilled all movement as Sam's whole body rose up, afraid he had hurt him then Sam pushed down onto his fingers, his knees moving up higher, wider as he breathed out, "Dean, please." No more urging needed, Dean began to truly work the tight muscles open. He wanted in.

Sam thought he was going to pass out as he was stretched and another finger entered him to play. "Enough. Please, Dean"

"You want me to stop?" an incredulous pained squeak.

"No. Enough. I want you fucking me right now."

"Sammy, don't talk dirty!" But laughing relieved as he pulled those fingers free as quickly as he dared and surged up his brother's body.

Dean was kissing him again, hard, deep, and he felt his brother's prick questing at his slightly sore hole. There was a "Shit!" and a fumbling as Dean remembered the lube then fingers lining up the head of his prick and a tense silence as Dean stared into Sam's eyes, a gasp and he was in.

Dean just stared at his brother. He could not move the channel so tight clutching him. If he moved he would cum and he so did not want to do that yet, not yet but it was so hot and tight and pulsing around him.

Sam could see nothing, his eyes screwed shut, his head back as he desperately stopped himself from screaming out. From telling Dean how much of a bastard he was for making him hurt like this. Then it was gone, the shock, the pain and he felt himself relax, and grabbing onto Dean's shoulders, he sort of pushed out and felt that huge seeming prick, slide in a little further. His nails left half moons in Dean's skin.

Dean didn't notice as he clenched his teeth and slid just that little, bit, further, inside. Either he had not prepared Sam enough or, because, it was Sam, but it had never felt like this, this good before. Anal was always good and tight, but he had never wanted to cum before he even got going before. He pushed his face into Sammy's neck so if the boy did manage to open his eyes he would not see the effort on Dean's face.

Sam pulled his legs up and crossed then over Dean's buttocks. That helped with the stretched feeling and Dean slid even more inside. He must be in by now, surely? There was just so much of him. And this had been Sam's idea in the first place! What the fuck had he been thinking? He concentrated on breathing and forced himself to relax. And then it all got a whole lot better.

Feeling the intense tightness give, Dean was able to slid all the way 'home'. He opened his eyes and lent up searching Sam's face. "You okay?" as his brother tilted his head to look at him. He did not truly look it but, licking his lips, Sam nodded and shifted his heels higher on Dean's back, his arms moving to surround him.

"Kiss me?" and Dean did, straining up to reach those lips, then rose up onto bent arms finding it easier and slowly began to move his hips in time to his lips.

It took a moment for Sam to realise that the friction he could feel as Dean's prick began to move inside him did not hurt. It was uncomfortable but did not hurt.

Dean began to move on him, in him more confidently as Sam kissed him back just as strongly as he began to move his hips under him, pushing against him, meeting him. He lay fully on Sam, running a hand up into that dark chestnut hair, breaking the kiss, panting onto his lips. He shifted slightly, higher on him managing to thrust that little bit harder and suddenly Sam made one of his noises as his head threw back and his hips shot up knocking Dean off his rhythm. "Sam?"

"Again. Fuck, Dean! Do that again."

Dean wasn't sure what 'that' was, so he just thrust in again and again and Sam pulled at him with hands, with legs, panting out.

"There. Hah. Dean!" Each time Dean's prick pushed into him, he could feel an electric jolt shoot through his body. He had no idea where it was coming from or why, but he liked it. He liked it a lot, and he could feel his balls drawing up and he was going to cum and he wanted to but it was way to soon because he never wanted this feeling to stop he never wanted the prick stretching him so wide in such a good way rubbing pushing heating him up to stop and and….. "Dean. Shit! I'm gonna …" and that was it, and as his body convulsed, he put scratches across Dean's back while trails of cum shot from him to be spread and mashed between their bodies as Dean was not going to stop for anything.

Except that is, to still and luxuriate in the thrill of Sam's rectum convulsing around his prick. Pulse after pulse in an irregular rhythm holding him captive until Sam relaxed around him, under him, and moving again, causing Sam to whimper, he pushed in slow, long and deep. Once, twice then he too came shooting up deep inside his brother, clutching at the broad shoulders, then collapsing down breathing raggedly onto a body turned liquid under him.

Legs like lead, Sam was helpless as he felt so weak, his limbs falling to the floor. He had no energy to spare needing it all just to survive. Dean's still swollen prick slipped out of him making him shiver, thinking he could cum again just from that as his brother moved further down his body to lie between his legs head on his chest.

"Sammy?" a breathless mumbling he could feel vibrating against his chest.

"Yeah?" equally breathy.

"I think you just ruined me for anyone else."

Smiling, idly running his fingers across Dean's sweat glistened back, he purred, "Good." -

"Where are you going?" Dean asked as Sam descended the stairs dressed in his best 'casual' clothes.

"To see Thomas." As if that would be obvious, it was Friday night after all and there was a football game on.

'But you can't!' Dean wanted to scream at him. Why the fuck would he want 'him' when he had Dean? When he was right here? The sooner Dad got back and he convinced him it was time to move on the better. Dean was thinking bad thoughts.

"See you later." Cheerful, chipper and not what Dean wanted to hear.

Moving quickly he grabbed Sam's jacket and pushed him hard up against the wall. He rammed his body against him feeling his brother harden straight away. Good. "Well have a nice time." Rubbing his own prick against his brother's. "But don't even think about letting him fuck you. If he does, I'll beat the crap out of him." Sam stared at him, no fear, just a kind of excitement. "Kiss him, touch him all you want but don't cum. Not till you get back home. At eleven thirty sharp! Keep you curfew. And do you know what's going to happen then?"

Sam swallowed, shaking his head, doing nothing to fight Dean off.

Dean lent forwards once more, whispering into his ear. "I'm going to strip you naked and throw you over the back of the couch then I'm going to 'play'." He grinned against Sam's cheek as the teenager moaned and pushed against him.

"And what if I miss my curfew?" Sam asked, all hot and anxious but wanting to be provocative.

Dean backed off letting Sam lose. He ran the back of his hand over the prominent bulge in Sam's jeans then, opening the door, pushed him outside. "I won't be here!" and slammed the door in his brother's face. Grinning, he moved off into the kitchen. There was no way Sammy would miss his curfew.

He felt sorry for Thomas.

No he didn't.

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Thankyou for reading and I hope you enjoyed.


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